Кони привередливые Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий

Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий Кони привередливые (The Fastidious Horses) A Translation by Maya Jouravel: By the cliff, along the precipice, right over deadly ground, With the whip, I strike my steeds; strike them hard to urge them forward. I am getting short on air, gulp the haze, drink the wind, yet With a fatal rapture, sensing: I am done for, I am done for Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please Don t you listen to my stinging thong But the horses just my luck are so hard to please Neither lived I so long, nor will I finish this I will let horses drink, I ll complete this refrain, Just a little bit more I will stay on the I will vanish from the Earth, swept by a storm like fluffy feather; At a gallop, in the morning by the snow they ll drag me over Can t you please prolong my journey to the end of my tether Can t you ease your dash, my horses, carry on a little